


Teamwork Makes the Dream Work

by midnightstreet



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fantasy Fulfillment, Frottage, Future Fic, Hockey, Husbands, Jock Straps, Locker Room, M/M, Roleplay, Shower Sex, Virginity Kink, Youth Sports Coach Patrick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29410548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightstreet/pseuds/midnightstreet
Summary: "How many times did you get a hard-on in a locker room between the ages of 13 and 18?”Stupid David. How dare he say true things?“Like a hundred times."“Once Stevie informed me what a ‘rec center’ actually entailed, I planned ahead: towels, sandals to prevent foot fungus, body wash we can rub all over each other…”Fuck.“You, Patrick Brewer, star athlete, are going to get off with one of your castmates—”“Teammates.”“—in the locker room. Just two curious teenage boys, exploring each other’s bodies.”
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 28
Kudos: 207





	Teamwork Makes the Dream Work

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spiffymittens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiffymittens/gifts).



> For my favorite squirrel on her birthday. Big thanks to Val for the speedy beta!

“So these small humans, they just, what, run back and forth?”

“It’s just practice, David; there isn’t an ice rink within 40 kilometres of Schitt’s Creek, so the kids train this way most of the time. They get the fundamentals down before they have to add skating to the mix.”

“What if they can’t skate?”

“Most of them can; this is Canada after all. But if not, we deal with that once we hit the ice.”

“Sounds like a recipe for disaster. Have any ambulances been summoned?”

“Not yet, but it’s still early in the season.”

“You sound very casual about all of this.”

“It’s just youth sports, David; kids have fun, kids get injured. All part of growing up.”

“And the parents sign off on this?!” David flapped his hands, looking wildly around at the children wielding hockey sticks and screeching.

Patrick put on his most placid smile, the one guaranteed to make David lose his mind. “Yup.”

“How is this not child abuse?!”

Patrick just chuckled. “Okay, they’re wrapping up. No deaths this time, so I think they’ll be keeping me on as coach a bit longer. Hang on, gotta deal with the munchkins.” He jogged out to the middle of the gym, directing the teams — one in red pinnies and the other in purple — to line up and shake hands.

“Good game, everyone! I saw some great teamwork out there. Don’t forget, there’s no practice this Friday. I’ll see you back here next Tuesday to work on puck handling! Hit the showers.”

It was just a saying, of course: all of his kids were headed straight home to shower there — if their parents could corral them into one, that was — not even glancing toward the locker room as they marched out the door. Thank god for seven-year-olds and their lack of hormones: in five years, the smell would be overwhelming.

He waved to the kids as they departed with shouts of “Goodbye, Mr. Patrick!” (and he swore he even heard a mumbled “Goodbye, Mr. David!” mixed in), then shoved the nets back into their storage space before scooping up sticks and balls.

“So is there, like, a locker room situation?” David did an exaggerated shoulder shimmy. “I mean, I have nothing but traumatic memories associated with them.” Patrick’s face fell, his heart breaking for the umpteenth time over what young David had gone through. “But _you_ , my little straight athlete—”

“Never actually straight.”

“—you must have spent lots of time around naked boys. And I’m thinking that even then, something in the back of your brain was telling your dick there was reason to be excited. How many times did you get a hard-on in a locker room between the ages of 13 and 18?”

Stupid David. How dare he say true things?

“Like a hundred times. Just hang out here — I have to check for stragglers and lock up, then we can head out.”

“No, nope. Once Stevie informed me what a ‘rec center’ actually entailed, I planned ahead: towels, sandals to prevent foot fungus, body wash we can rub all over each other…”

_Fuck._

“You, Patrick Brewer, star athlete, are going to get off with one of your castmates—”

“Teammates.”

“—in the locker room. Just two curious teenage boys, exploring each other’s bodies…”

Was this really happening?

“Okay, fine, I see where you’re going with this. Say David, we’ve had a long practice and we’ve both gotten really sweaty. We should shower, right?”

“Eww. I mean, um, yes, let’s go to our lockers to take off our, umm, outfits? And then shower.”

“Gear, David.” Patrick corrected, throwing a friendly arm over his husband’s shoulder. “It’s called ‘gear’.”

++++++++++

Neither of them actually had lockers, of course, but they chose sections of the locker room strategically, putting them diagonally across from each other for ease of casting shy glances back and forth. Having picked up the rest of the kids’ gear and locked (and re-locked, for good measure) both the main entrance and side door, Patrick had stepped into a space that brought back a flood of memories — some good, others not so much.

His eyes darted from one corner of the room to the other as he stripped off, trying to recreate the experiences of his youth. It smelled a lot less, to be sure, and the benches didn’t have dicks carved in them, but it was easy to put himself back in that mindset. Finally, he wrapped a towel around his waist for ‘modesty’ and headed for the wet room, a series of eight showerheads encircling a common space.

What sadist had first come up with this design?

Towel dropped, Patrick started up his chosen station. Hot water hit cool tile and created billowing steam that filled the room.

This was a space just for the boys. No girls allowed here, just a bunch of swinging dicks, making teasing comments about size and snapping their towels at each other’s asses.

Totally non-sexual. Sure.

Patrick was wetting his hair and laughing at the absurdity of it all when he saw him: David appeared through the fog like a dream, like every filthy fantasy a teenage boy could have of finding himself alone and naked with his crush.

“Mind if I join you?” David asked, ignoring the unwritten rules of communal shower etiquette and taking the showerhead directly beside Patrick’s.

“Umm. No?” Patrick replied, already sex-stupid just thinking about the beautiful cock hiding beneath David’s towel. “Are you. Uh. What class do you have next period? Maybe Coach, uh...Coach Johnson,”— David snorted — “can write you an excuse.”

“Mm, yeah, I hope so,” David answered. “I just got all sweaty out there. I feel so _dirty_.” David dropped his towel. 

Patrick nearly swallowed his tongue: instead of being naked under there, David had, at some point, put on a fucking _jock strap_. Holy fuck.

Patrick’s whimper echoed off the tile.

“Oh, you like it?” David smirked knowingly. “I just bought it, but I’m not sure if it’s got enough support: I kept thinking my dick was gonna pop out when we were running around out there.”

“It’s. Uh.” Oh god, had Patrick’s voice really just _cracked_? “Nah, it’s great, man. But yeah, I get what you mean.”

“Hey, here you go: I’ll do your back if you do mine.” David picked up a bottle of body wash off the floor, taking Patrick’s hand to squirt a generous amount into his pa—.

Wait. That smell. He looked down at the bottle in David’s hand.

David had gone out and bought fucking _Irish Spring body wash_ , just for this. He was sacrificing every skincare-related principle he had to set the scene perfectly for his husband. God, what had Patrick done to deserve this man?

David turned around and leaned forward against the wall ( _god in heaven_ ), showing off his broad back and that beautiful ass, framed by pale blue straps that were just begging to be snapped. Patrick ran his cupped hands quickly under the water, then made a lather and started at David’s shoulders.

“Oh wow, you’ve got really strong hands. I’m so sore today; that was a tough rehearsal.”

“ _Practice_ ,” Patrick whispered.

“That was a tough practice. Oh, that’s good. You can go harder if you want.”

The delicious scent of the body wash filled the space, the last piece of the puzzle putting Patrick right back in grade 11, rinsing off after working up a sweat with his teammates, muscles already stiffening. Teenage boys weren’t exactly standing around massaging soap into each other, but in a fantasy…

David continued to moan as Patrick worked his back. When he got down to the waistband of David’s jock strap, he hesitated. 

“Can you, umm. I think I’m still dirty. We’re bros, right? Bros help each other out.” He widened his stance, bringing his whole body lower. Patrick’s semi was suddenly hard enough to cut glass.

“Yeah, dude, no problem, I got you, I got you.” He made a few tentative sweeps down, washing David’s cheeks quickly, then followed the sparse hair that covered the area to what was hidden from his view. Finally his thumbs seemed to act of their own accord, dipping along David’s crack and _spreading_. David gasped and bucked forward, then the air went very still.

“You...you can.” David whispered, looking firmly down at his own feet, just like a teenage boy about to have his first sexual experience with someone he wanted, but didn’t think he was allowed to want. God, Patrick ached to be that boy; to have known about himself at seventeen what he knew now.

He gathered as much extra lather as he could from David’s back and returned to his ass, making little swipes into the shadows that hid that forbidden thing within, then finally let one fingertip catch on the hole. “Is this...is this okay?”

David widened his stance further. He looked back over his shoulder at Patrick, their eyes finally meeting, bit down on his lower lip, and nodded.

Patrick had the presence of mind to grab the body wash again, squirting a ridiculous amount in the dip of David’s lower back and gliding it down, pulling at the jock strap to let the gel continue its downward trajectory. David hissed. “Oh, it’s cold. It feels...it feels so good. You need to feel it. Please.”

What would an awkward teenage boy, overwhelmed with lust, do in this situation? Honestly, he’d probably go right for sticking his dick in where he knew men fucked each other. But with wisdom and maturity — and the ability to not let lust overwhelm common sense — Patrick developed an alternate plan that wouldn’t result in injury. After one more sloppy squirt of body wash directly on his own dick — _wow_ was that cold, had David been keeping this in the freezer?? — he stepped up behind David, sliding his cock in the space between his cheeks. “Is this okay?”

David wiggled back. “Yeah, fuck, do it. I want it. Wanna know what it feels like.”

Patrick grabbed David’s hips, planting his feet in a wide stance, and just...went for it. The water poured down on him as he thrust forward and up, raising up on his tiptoes in pursuit of delicious friction. He could feel the hair along David’s crack brushing every ridge and vein of his cock. His lust-soaked brain had him grasping David’s cheeks and squeezing them together, giving him a tighter space to fuck into, tight enough that Patrick’s foreskin was sliding up and down with every thrust. It was pure bliss. He grabbed the waistband of the jock strap, twisting the sides around his fingers and using the handhold to tug David back toward him. The head of his dick caught on David’s hole, once, then again, and Patrick was gone, shooting straight up to the small of David’s back as he gasped for air.

Well, he certainly had the stamina of a teenage boy today.

All it took was a whispered, “Oh god, Patrick,” and he spun David around, dropping to his knees and ripping the jock strap down, swallowing David’s cock with an obscene moan. David, though, as the one who _hadn’t_ just come his brains out acting out a fantasy he never knew he had, actually remembered what was going on. He pulled Patrick off gently.

“Hey, this is your first time, right? You don’t...you don’t have to. I’ve never, umm. No one’s ever done this to me before, and I think I’m gonna come really fast, so you can just use your hand, maybe?”

Patrick swiped a rough hand over his own mouth. “Oh. Yeah. Umm, yeah, I’ve never. I really want to though.” He shifted around, resettling himself on the uncomfortably hard, slippery tile floor. “I’d really like to do this for you. I…” his voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible over the showers, “I want you to be my first.” He looked up through wet eyelashes and watched David gulp.

Lowering his head slowly, he took an experimental swipe at the swollen head with the tip of his tongue. All he could taste was water and a hint of perfumey freshness from the body wash. He wished more than anything in this moment that he could taste and smell _skin_ and _body_ and _man_. Yes, man — if 17-year-old Patrick had done this, he would have been sure right now: he wanted guys, and only guys. No fantasy of a girl, no grab of a boob under the bleachers or makeout session in his parents’ borrowed car, would ever compare to this, never again in his life. He didn’t want what he was _supposed_ to want — he wanted _this_.

He took the head of David’s cock in his mouth, sucking and licking, replacing water with spit and making everything sloppy. He pulled off and mouthed down the shaft, pressing little kisses all around, ducking down to rub his nose against matted pubic hair and suck one of David’s balls into his mouth. God, this was absolute heaven, getting to explore another guy this way; to give in to every instinct screaming at him that this was where he was supposed to be, on his knees in worship.

There was a pain lurking in his chest that he now recognized as regret: this was wonderful, but thinking about it too much was making his heart hurt. He needed to be in the moment and enjoy this perfect fantasy. He used their signal — Patrick tapping David on his left hip 3 times — to indicate that David should fuck his mouth.

David went for it with gusto, grabbing Patrick’s hair and thrusting — hard and fast — along his tongue and back into his throat. “Oh fuck, dude, you’re so good at that. Shit, yeah, take my cock.”

It worked perfectly: in no time, Patrick was so overwhelmed with lust that he forgot everything else. Drool dripped from his mouth to the slick tile under his knees as he tried to relax and take it. He was so overcome with absolute bliss, he missed David’s signal, indicating he was about to come. Patrick struggled not to gag on the final thrust, swallowing over and over to wet his throat as David pulled out and jacked himself, coming on Patrick’s face.

Patrick barely had time to blink before he heard his name. He looked up at David, around the room, and then down to find he was _getting hard again_. Just like a fucking teenager. David leaned on Patrick’s shoulder for support, pulling first one foot, then the other out of his sodden jock strap and dropping to his knees, licking his own come off Patrick’s face and wrapping the wet blue fabric around Patrick’s cock. It was perfect, rough but not too rough, and it only took a few strokes before he came in weak blurts and fell face-first into David’s shoulder.

After what felt like five hours of trying to catch their breath, David stood up and helped Patrick stand on shaky legs. The water was still pouring down on them, but it had started to go cold, so David backed them up against the wall, getting them out from under the spray. They stood like that for a long time, kissing slow and soft and trading ‘I love you’s’, licking stray water droplets off each other’s faces. Eventually the chill in the air forced them to turn off the water and find their towels.

“On the bench, please — I brought a first aid kit. I got so excited I forgot about the sandals, and I am taking no chances with that bacteria breeding ground.”

Patrick laughed, dutifully sitting and allowing David to swipe rubbing alcohol over the bottoms of his feet and around his knees. They kissed for another languorous stretch of time before Patrick returned to his own bench to dress.

Without a blowdryer or any of his products, David shoved a toque on over his wet hair as they stepped back out into the chilly late-November air. He looked so cute, Patrick had no choice but to pin him to the side of the building and peck sweet kisses all over his face while he squirmed.

“Mm, that was so hot, honey.” David said once they were finally in the car, waiting for the heat to kick on. “What do you think, should I invest in more jock straps? That really seemed to do it for you.”

“Oh, it absolutely did; feel free to surprise me like that any time.” Patrick picked up David’s hand and brought it to his lips. “I think...I think I didn’t know how much I needed that, you know? It was never a conscious fantasy, but it felt very...right...to recreate something like that.”

“Regrets?”

“Mm. Kind of? I wonder how my life would have been different, had I known I was gay back then. But then, if I had, we never would have met, so it’s a trade-off I’ll happily take.”

“I’m sorry you missed out; I’d be happy to be a jock for you any time, and there’s a thriving porn genre that may be of interest to you. But right now, I need you to get me home — my skin is already itching from that paint stripper masquerading as a body wash, and I’m throwing you over for a date with some body milk.”

"I guess I could be convinced to open this relationship up." Patrick chuckled. "As long as the Irish Spring and I can get some time alone together."

**Author's Note:**

> I 1000% think Patrick winds up putting his Big Dad Energy into all kinds of youth coaching and mentoring! David is still opposed to team sports, but he likes the cooperation and lack of ruthless competition in the programs for the little kids...and Patrick does look _very_ dashing in some of the 'costumes'.


End file.
